All You Did Was Save My Life
by Kuro-Tenshi Ariannel
Summary: A confusing Phantom fic...it mixes the book and the movie. A different retelling of Phantom of the Opera, with minor changes. Alternate-world-ish. story should be better than the actual summary.
1. Chapter 1

My first Phantom of the Opera fic, yays!! XD i have about virtually no right to be writing this, what with my (very slow) progress with my other fics (Twin Identities, for one) but please bear with me. And this is going to be very confusing, i was trying to explain it to my sister, and the entire time she was like "what?" so, again, please bear with me.

And on we go....i guess...

* * *

A father paced the floor in distress. From the room his wife was in, there was no noise---his wife had stopped screaming a while ago, and while he had expected a baby's cry, there was nothing. He looked up when the midwife walked in, a bundle in her arms.

"The baby?" He asked, his heart sinking. She smiled wryly and held out the baby. He took his son from her and looked at the baby, only to flinch in horror. The baby was breathing, but there was a horrible deformity on the right side of his face. Shivering lightly, he walked into the room where his wife was demanding to see the baby. He presented him to her, and she screamed, yelling at him to get the baby away from her. As he did, she yelled that she was not going to take care of the baby, and did not want it anywhere near her. The baby seemed unaffected, looking around with a calm look in his eyes, but he could tell that the baby understood his mother's rejection. A sudden light seemed to spark in the baby's eyes.

And the baby began to wail.

* * *

When he turned two, he said his first word. And to sing his first line of music, all within seconds of each other. It didn't shock the father that his son said anything, or sang. That seemed natrual (for some strange reason). What shocked his father was that it took him so long to say anything. He could've said something sooner---he had been too bright for a baby his own age, often acting at least four years older than he actually was. He had obeyed his mother's direction not to come near her, often leaving a room when she entered once he learned to crawl. Therefore, his father was the only one who heard him speak. He was sitting on a chair, reading the newspaper, the baby playing with a toy on the floor, when suddenly the baby looked at him.

"Christine." He said simply, tears filling his eyes. The young father knelt down, looking at the baby. "It's over now, the Music of the Night."

"Son?" The baby boy looked away.

"Christine..."

* * *

A father paced the hallways, trying to keep his mind off of what was happening in the room. He looked up when the midwife entered, a bundle in her hands. She handed him the baby silently.

"My wife?" He asked. She smiled sadly, shaking her head. He nodded his understanding, looking down at the baby. "Her name is Christine."

* * *

He had just turned four when his mother gave him his first birthday present in his young life---a black mask. It sparked an argument between the two parents, while he simply went into another room and placed the mask over his face. As soon as he did, a relief spread throughout his features. Not wanting to hear his parents' fight, he wandered to the small toy piano and began plunking on the keys. He hit one key and a whole song followed, his eyes filling with sudden tears as he seemed to recall something. The fighting died down slowly as he continued to play. And to his mother's shock, he began to sing softly.

"And now, how you've repaid me, denied me and betrayed me. He was bound to love you when he heard you sing...Christine..." The mention of Christine again made his father wonder who the girl was. He was brought out of his thoughts when the piano music turned a little...violent suddenly. "You will curse the day you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you!"

* * *

She was two, spinning around laughing as her father played the violin for her. Giggling as her father winked at her, she smiled at the people passing by and waved at other little kids. When her father finished a few minutes later, she ran up to him and beamed at him. He coughed into his hand, then placed his violin in the case, taking his daughter's hand in his free hand.

* * *

When he was six his father died. He ignored his mother's glare from between rows of relatives and stayed until they put the coffin in the ground. When they started burying his father, he flew off, slamming the door open, pushing it shut. He sat in the chair his father usually sat in while reading the newspaper, or listening to him play. Taking deep breaths, he pulled himself together enough to find himself sitting on the floor, hands on his knees, as if he were presenting himself.

Two hours later, he was still like that, only now he had his mother and two men looking him over. One of the men reached forward, taking the mask off of his face. He sat still, looking up at them, as the men laughed. One gave his mother money; the other grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, slipping a bag over his head. He didn't look back at his mother.

He had been sold.

For a year and a half, he survived the beatings and the torture that was administered to him on a daily basis. He endured the stares and shrieks of horror of being the 'Devil's Child'. Then, when he had finally just snapped, he strangled his 'keeper'. With cries of "Murderer!" behind him, he ran blindly, not knowing where he was going. A small hand in his almost made him stop, but as he looked down at the young girl, she pulled him around a building and opened a door.

"Get in here!" She hissed, pushing him in. As he stumbled in, she came in after him, closing the door. Looking around, he saw candles and how small the room was.

"Where---"

"Shhh!" She put her finger to her lips, ear against the door. When she was satisfied, she pulled away and looked at him. "Wait here, ok? I'm going to go get Maman."

* * *

At the age of four, she was used to traveling with her father. She would wave to people passing by in cars, on trains. Sometimes, she would sing as her father played the violin. Usually, she would sit by him as he played, feeling the violin music surround her. When she was five, she was walking by the sea with her father when a sudden gust of wind came, blowing her red scarf into the ocean. She ran all the way up to the edge of the water, looking helplessly at the scarf.

"I'll get it!" A childish voice called from behind her. She turned to see a blur run by her and into the water, a woman screaming at the blur from behind. A few seconds later, someone grabbed her hand from behind. Turning around, she saw a blonde boy holding out a red scarf. Both were soaked. He grinned at her. "Here you go."

"Thank you." She smiled back. "My name's Christine."

"I'm Raoul." The woman came forward, scolding Raoul. Laughing, Christine's father called her as well. Before she left, she leaned forward and gave Raoul a small kiss as thanks.

They met later, and they stayed in the house by the sea. Everyday, they met and played with each other during the summer.

However, at the end of summer, it had been time for them to take their leave and she said good bye to her friend, walking hand-in-hand with her father, away from the house by the sea.

At first, things went great. She sang for her father as he played the violin, and the music surrounded her beautifully.

* * *

Even though he had only lived (with the little girl's Maman's approval) under the Opera Populair for a little less than half a year, he quickly got used to the place. It was comforting, to him, to live in the dark. Over time, he managed to get a few instruments, with help from the little girl. He taught himself to play the violin, and they somehow managed to get an organ down into his new home.

Over time, he got used to getting visits---the little girl (who insisted he call her Meg) and her Maman (a stern woman whom he addressed, always, as Madam Giry). They brought him food, and Meg told him of all the other ballet rats---what they did, who they were, things like that. When they weren't with him, he was going through the tunnels of the Opera House, throwing his (already) deep voice around, tormenting the ballet rats and even the managers. He had managed to scare them into giving him money, which made Meg clap in delight and Madam Giry frown in disapproval. However, under the disapproval, he could see the amusement in her eyes.

* * *

Well, I had more, but this seems long enough as it is....


	2. Chapter 2

All right, chapter two....that is encouraging, i guess....

And on we go....

* * *

At first, things went great. She sang for her father as he played the violin, and the music surrounded her beautifully.

However, after time, her father became ill, and they were confined to a house. The woman of the house, whom Christine called Mama Valeria, made sure her father was comfortable and the his daughter was as happy as possible. Until, when Christine was seven, her father died.

She cried for a few days, rarely eating and never leaving her room. Her guardian didn't know what to do with her, and therefore called some help in from an old friend of both herself and Mr. Daae.

"Madam? I need some help..."

* * *

He was nine, racing down the hallways. He had just been up one of the passageways he had found, a new one that led to the ballet rat's dormitories, and had been speaking quietly to Meg. It amazed him that she adored him, going as far as calling him 'dear older brother'. To amuse her, he called her 'little sister', smirking at the delight that lit up her face when he did.

"Madam Giry." He paused when he saw the woman, stopping instantly. She nodded at him.

"I am to retrieve the child of an old friend of mine. He has died, and she won't stop crying. When she is here, you are not to torment her as you do the other girls. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Madam." He nodded. She smiled her approval.

* * *

Christine was still in her room when there was a knock on her door. She turned a tear-streaked face towards it and silently watched a woman approach her.

"Hello, my dear." The woman kneeled down next to her. "I don't know if you remember me. I am an old friend of your father's. If you wish, I could take you with me, to live with me and my little girl."

"Madam Giry..." Christine whispered. The woman looked pleased to be remembered, if only vaguely.

"That's right, Christine. My daughter, Meg, and I live in an Opera House. You can stay with us, if you wish." Christine's eyes widened.

"Oh, may I please?"

* * *

True to his word, he never talked to Christine. He often, however, threatened the little ballet rats if they gave Madam Giry a hard time. However, Meg could tell before they could and would manage to get Christine out of the room seconds before his voice entered. It remained that way for a year.

It was a year later, when he was ten, when he sat down one day at his organ, that Christine heard him. He had sat down, playing keys languidly. Suddenly, a song came to him and, entranced, he continued playing, singing along with it.

"Child of the wilderness, born into emptiness  
Learn to be lonely. Learn to find your way in darkness."

* * *

Christine had lit a candle and was praying for her father when a voice, a deep, entrancing, almost unearthly voice, echoed throughout the room.

"Who will be there for you?  
Comfort and care for you?  
Learn to be lonely. Learn to be your one companion."

"Hello?" Christine was trembling, terrified of the voice that had entered the room.

"Never dreamed out in the world  
There are arms to hold you.  
You've always known  
Your heart was on it's own."

"Hello? Who is that? Who's there?" Christine's voice was shaking and when no reply came, she turned and fled the room, screaming.

"So laugh in your loneliness  
Child of the wilderness.  
Learn to be lonely. Learn how to love life that is lived alone."

* * *

"Learn to be lonely.  
Life can be lived, life can be loved  
Alone." He continued playing, then took a deep breath and sighed. A few minutes later, he tensed, sensing someone coming down. Wary of the unknown visitor, he slid into shadows, the white mask he created barely visible in the dark. A few minutes later, he came out. "Madam Giry."

"I thought I told you not to scare Christine." She said sternly. He frowned.

"That was a year ago, Madam, and I haven't yet. In fact, I have yet to even see the girl."

"Well, explain to me why she came running, screaming about a voice she heard?" He shrugged.

"I don't know. I was simply playing some music---I haven't done that in a while." Madam Giry frowned.

"Well, Christine heard you. You may as well apologize, you might have traumatized the poor girl." He would have gaped at her if he could.

"Me? Apologize?" He managed. Madam Giry raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, that does seem rather...out of character, even for you, but you must."

"Fine, fine." He scowled.

* * *

The next day found Christine, at the same time, lighting a candle for her father, looking around her in hopes that the strange voice wouldn't come back.

"Christine." She jumped and whirled around. "Christine." She looked all over the small room, trying to place the voice. "Christine." It sounded amused by that time, and she couldn't hold her terror.

"Oh, who is it? What do you want?" She yelled finally.

"Christine, I apologize for scaring you yesterday." Oh, he hated those words! Never had he ever had to say them. "I was merely practicing and was not aware my organ, or my voice, could be heard from my position." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Christine called out. He paused, turning to her. "You know my name. The least you could do is tell me yours."

"It's not any of your concern." He said.

"But I wanna know!" She whined lightly. "I won't tell anyone, I swear!" He turned, fully prepared to terrify this girl, even if it brought about another lecture from Madam Giry, but froze at the look in her pleading eyes as she searched the room futilely for him.

"My name is Erik." He said simply, hoping that would do for now.

"Are you my Angel of Music?" She whispered reverantly, hopefully. He sighed lightly.

"I am the farthest thing from an Angel, my dear." He said. "And now I take my leave. Farewell, Christine." He made his way down his passageway. "I hope I never talk to you again." He whispered lightly.

* * *

"No, you need to stand up straighter. Like...like you're a puppet and a puppeteer is holding you straight up." Erik sighed as Christine took his advice. Somehow, someway, he had been roped into giving the girl singing lessons. Of all things. He cursed lightly as she sang, furious with himself. As he watched her, he made a silent vow with himself. He would stay behind the walls forever.

He would never fall in love with her. He refused to make that mistake again. Ever.

* * *

That had been four years before. Now, he was fourteen and she twelve. They still had their singing lessons, with Christine in the room and he behind the mirror in the room he had convinced Madam Giry to allow them to use, and Christine was nearing perfection. Erik sighed happily as she finished.

"What happened, Erik?" Christine asked, smiling happily. "I hear that you tormented Monseuir again."

"Nothing." Erik said dismissively. "He wasn't cooperating with me, that's all." She giggled.

"I guess this is the end of our lesson." She waved. "Bye, Erik."

"Christine." His voice stopped her. "Christine, you are nearing perfection, you realize." Her eyes gleamed happily at the sudden praise.

"Thank you, Angel of Music."

"My name is Erik, Christine." He said, hiding his irritated state---he hated it when she called him that.

"Erik, then." She said, making a face. "I gotta go to dinner, Erik. I'll come tomorrow again. Bye." He watched her walk away, and realized something---his heart was thumping in his chest heavily, and he realized his face was a little red. He cursed.

He was starting to love her. Again.

* * *

All right, then. here we go. i guess...


	3. Chapter 3

this is what, chapter three?

And on we go....

* * *

He would never fall in love with her. He refused to make that mistake again. Ever. And already, he was starting to love her again. Erik cursed as he practically flew down the hall towards his organ. Instantly, he went to his organ, pounding on the keys angrily. He had told himself over and over and _over_ that it was just singing lessons, it wouldn't go any further than that, that he wouldn't make the same mistake and have his heart torn to pieces again.

It didn't work, and Erik was furious and annoyed with himself. He struck a note and the whole song followed after. Recognizing the song, he sang instincitively.

"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory!  
Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!" Granted, he had no triumph save his own stupidity and inability to avoid this a second time.

"Angel, I hear you.  
Speak, I'll listen.  
Stay by my side,  
Guide me.  
Angel, my soul was weak  
Forgive me.  
Enter at last, Master." If he was surprised at Christine's sudden entrance, he didn't show it, just turned to face her for a few seconds---long enough for her to see the mask.

"Flattering child, you shall know me  
See why in shadow I hide  
Look at your face in the mirror  
I am there inside!" Christine walked up and stood behind him, placing her hand gently on his shoulder. He tensed, waiting for her to remove her hand. She didn't.

"Angel of Music, guide and guardian  
Come to me, your glory!  
Angel of Music, hide no longer  
Secret and strange Angel!" He turned to her again, pinning her with his eyes.

"I am your Angel of Muisc.  
Come to me, Angel of Music." She shivered at the deep, dark tone he used. His eyes never left hers.  
"I am your Angel of Music.  
Come to me, Angel of Music." She blinked.

"Hello, Erik." Christine said cheerfully. Erik sighed.

"How did you get down here, Christine?" She paused, biting her lip. Erik raised an eyebrow. "Christine?" He prompted.

"I heard music." She said finally. "I followed it."

"Christine..." Erik started, not buying it. Christine interrupted.

"So, what's wrong, Erik?" He did a double-take.

"Excuse me?" He said, frowning at her. She giggled.

"Something's wrong, Erik, I can tell." She touched his black hair that fell over the unmasked side of his face gently. "What's wrong, Erik?"

"Nothing." He said shortly, tilting his head back so that his hair fell out of Christine's touch. She pouted but pulled her hand back to her lap.

"'Nothing' was forcing abuse on that fine organ, Erik." Christine said stubbornly. Erik crossed his arms, a smile playing on his face. He turned away. "What was the song you were singing, when we were younger and I heard you for the first time?" She asked gently. He shrugged.

"Something I wrote." He said.

"It was so sad." She whispered lightly. He tilted his head in her direction and shrugged.

"It was supposed to be. Some songs in the world are sad, Christine." She sat down next to him on the organ's bench.

"I'm never singing a sad song." She decided.

"What if the opera they give you a role in has a sad song you're to sing?" Erik challenged. Christine shook her head.

"That doesn't count---that's the character singing, not me. I will never sing a sad song willingly." Erik snorted lightly.

"It's time you went back up." He said simply, pulling her hand forward---for the first and last time, the _last_ time, he told himself firmly---and leading her back up. She was tired, he knew, and he wouldn't allow her to stay down there with him. As they got in the gondola, him making sure she was sitting, she started singing softly.

"In sleep he sang to me.  
In dreams he came.  
That voice which calls to me  
And speaks my name.  
And though I dream again  
For now I find  
The Phantom of the Opera is there  
Inside my mind." Erik froze as she sang, pushing the gondola as hard as he could. When they reached the other side, he looked down and sighed in relief as he realized that she was asleep. Picking her up gently, he went up a different route than the one that led to the dressing room they practiced in, going down a hallway the led to the ballet rat's dormitories. He opened the passage way gently and placed Christine in her bed.

"Is that my dear older brother I hear?" Came a whispered voice rang out. He turned and saw Meg sitting up in her bed.

"What is it, little sister?" He asked in a whisper. She looked around.

"Christine tells nobody of you, you know. She hasn't even told me, or Maman." Meg smiled. "But she tells me of the boy you sing to her of." Erik shrugged. "Tell me, dear older brother, of whom is it you speak? Or are you making it up as she gets older? I don't think this boy really exists, and you realize that she'll be heartbroken when he never shows up?"

"He'll show up." Erik said in a firm whisper. "Now go to bed, Meg---Madam Giry says you have rehearsals in the morning." Meg lay in her bed obediently and Erik walked up to the passage silently. "Oh, and Meg?" She lifted her head to see him pause. "Don't leave any other passages open for Christine."

"As you wish." Meg sighed. "Good night, big brother."

Only silence met her as her answer.


	4. Chapter 4

whoo, chapter four. how come no one reviews? c'mon, people, tell me i suck or something!

And on we go....

* * *

Christine stood straight and tall in the room, holding a note as long as she could. Erik played a violin on the other side of the wall, eyes closed. As her voice faded away, she looked at the mirror skeptically.

"Erik, why can't I find the passage I used last time?"

"I sealed it up." Erik said smoothly, placing the violin on the floor to stretch his fingers out. Christine frowned.

"Why?"

"Because, my dear, you do not belong down there in the night." She smiled suddenly, walking forward and placing a hand on the mirror.

"You know, Erik?" She started, still smiling. He looked at her.

"What?" He asked when she stayed silent. She looked up, even though she couldn't see him. He could see her quite clearly, however, and he caught her eyes with his for a second.

"You're much younger than I expected." She finished. He snorted lightly.

"I'm two years older than you, Christine."

"I'm twelve." She said. "If you're two years older, that would make you fourteen."

"Clever girl." Erik muttered, picking up the violin. "Now, back to your singing lessons, which is what I'm here for."

"I want to visit again." Christine said, ignoring the music that sailed through the room. Erik stopped playing and stared at the girl.

"Why in the world would you want to visit again?" He asked, staring at her astonished.

"It was a interesting place, Erik, and it was rather nice to actually see you." She said, smiling. "As much as I love your voice, I mean."

"You aren't coming back." He stated firmly, trying to calm himself. 'It doesn't mean anything---Raoul is still coming!'

"But---"

"And that's final, Christine." She pouted.

"Sing with me, then." He sighed---it was getting to be a problem, the way he was refusing her less and less lately.

"Fine, I'll sing with you." He agreed, placing the violin on the floor as he stood up. "What is it you would like to sing?"

"That song that you keep singing to me." Christine said. "I feel as if I know the words, somehow." Erik froze. She couldn't possibly be expecting him to sing _that_, could she?

"It's a love song, Christine." She smiled.

"I know." He bit his lip. 'It was sung in a desperate attempt to get away from me---but do I tell her that?'

"It's not meant to be sung by me." Christine's shoulders dropped.

"Come on, Erik, please?" She pleaded. Erik sighed.

"All right, all right. Fine." He shook his head, not believing what he was about to do. 'I'll have to change the words a bit---keep it between her and Raoul, in a sort of sense.' "I'll start, ready?"

"Yes, Erik!" She called. He rolled his eyes.

"No more talk of darkness.  
Forget your wide-eyed fears.  
He's there, nothing can harm you.  
His words will warm and calm you." Christine frowned---he was changing the words! He can't do that...can he?

"Let him be your freedom.  
Let daylight dry your tears.  
He's there, with you, beside you.  
To guard you and to guide you." She made a decision---she would not change the words as he was doing.

"Say you love me every waking moment.  
Turn my head with talk of summertime.  
Say you need me with you, there beside you.  
Promise me that all you say is true.  
That's all I ask of you."

"Let him be your shelter.  
Let him be your light.  
You're safe---no one will harm you.  
Your fears will be far behind you." Christine sighed as he continued to change the song. Well, she thought, two can play at that game, and maybe he'll let her visit him again.

"All I want is freedom.  
A world with no more light.  
And you, always beside me,  
To hold me and to hide me." Erik almost paused---she didn't change the words. Imagination, he thought lightly. My imagination works overtime.

"Then say you'll share with him one love, one lifetime.  
Let him lead you from your solitude.  
Say you need him with you, there beside you.  
Anywhere you go, let him go too.  
Christine, that's all he asks of you." She touched the mirror lightly with her fingertips (when had she gotten so close?) and continued the song.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime.  
Say the word and I will follow you."

"Enough." Erik stopped Christine and she frowned at him, confused. "That's enough."

"Erik...?" He picked up the violin and looked at Christine.

"The lesson is over, Christine." He said calmly, his lips in a thin line as he struggled with his desire to open the mirror and sing, actually sing, with Christine.

* * *

The next day, Christine approached the room with the mirror silently, closing the door behind her softly.

"Erik...?" She called out uncertaintly, not sure if he would still be there becuase of the way he had been acting the day before.

"You're a bit late, Christine." She flushed. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Six years passed without incident, and Christine never asked Erik to sing with her again. Instead, as she turned eighteen, her lessons seemed to be more focused on _Hannibal_, despite the fact that (according to Christine) they weren't doing that. Erik ignored her and continued to tutor her in _Hannibal_'s music.

"Besides," She complained as she stood in the room with the mirror, dressed as the 'slave' she was, leaning with her back against the mirror. Unknown to her, Erik was doing the same thing. "It's not as if I will get the lead. That part is for La Carlotta."

"Her voice is terrible." Erik said absently. "It sounds as if a tone-deaf person tutored her. You, however, have me as a tutor, and so therefore things will work out."

"How do you know?" Christine asked, curious, turning to look in the mirror, wishing for the millionth time that he would just allow her to see him again. He glanced at the watch that Madam Giry had given him when he turned eighteen a few years before.

"You're late for rehearsals, Christine." He said instead, ignoring her questions. Christine opened her mouth, about to tell him that it was rude to change the subject, when---

BAM! BAM! BAM! She flew to the door and opened it to find Meg standing, her eyes wide.

"We're late, Christine, Maman is going to have a fit!" She said breathlessly. Christine glanced back once at Erik before flying down the hall. Meg stood in the doorway. "You as well, dear big brother." Meg said, eyes sparkling in amusement. "Don't you have something planned with La Carlotta and a falling scenery piece?"

"Go catch up with Christine or Madam Giry will have both your heads and mine." He said, rolling his eyes at the amusement in his 'little sister's' eyes. "Besides, Christine will be suspicious. You said it yourself---she never told you of me."

"She doesn't have to." Meg said simply. "I found you first." Meg giggled and he shook his head, knowing she couldn't see it.

"Just go all ready." Meg waved before following Christine down the hall.

* * *

"Signora, these things do happen." One of the managers was assuring an angry La Carlotta. Erik smirked in amusement as Carlotta's eyes widened and she looked at the new managers in shock.

"For the past three years, 'these things do happen'!" She shrieked in anger. "But did you stop them from happening? NO! And you two!" She went from pointing accusingly at Master Lefevre to pointing at the unsuspecting managers, who winced due to their inexperience with the screaming prima donna. "You are as bad as he is! 'These things do happen'!" She mimicked the managers, who seemed to shrink a little. "Mah, NO!" She put her hands by her head in a 'stop' gesture. "Until you stop these things from happening, this," she pointed at herself for emphasis. "does not happen!" She whirled around, yelling for the thing that resembled a dog.

"Amateurs." Piangi laughed at them. They looked at each other helplessly. Madam Giry, who had disappeared shortly after the scenery dropped on La Carlotta, came back with a note as Master Lefevre wished the new managers good luck.

"I have a message from the Opera Ghost." She said. Erik nodded lightly.

"God in Heaven, you're all obsessed!" One of them cried out angrily. Erik sighed lightly---he hated having to scare the new managers. It would have been so much easier if they had believed about him in the first place. "HIS Opera House?" Came another outraged cry that gained Erik's attention. Madam Giry was telling them the contents of the letter. She ignored his outburst skillfully.

"And commands you continue to leave Box Five," She pointed at the aforementioned box with her cane. "Empty for his use, and reminds you that his salary is due."

"His salary?" The manager cried out (Erik sighed again---he was going to have a tough time convincing _this_ one.)

"Oui. Master Lefevre paid him twenty thousand francs a month." Erik tuned the rest of the conversation out, not wanting to hear the stupid manager's outraged cries any longer. A single line brought him back, however.

"A full house, Andre, we shall have to refund a full house!" Well, he knew one of the managers names now. Andre. Now, if he could just remember it...

"Christine Daae could sing it for you, sir."

"A chorus girl? Don't be silly." Erik felt a rush of anger. How dare they underestimate Christine? Madam Giry continued to pushed Christine in the limelight, and Erik suddenly caught his breath as she walked to the front of the stage.

"Andre, this is doing nothing for my nerves." The other manager grumbled (really, Erik would have to learn his name later.)

"Well, she's very pretty." Andre pointed out, trailing off as Christine began to sing.


	5. Chapter 5

yay i got a review! XD

And on we go....

* * *

"Think of me  
Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye.  
Remember me  
Once in a while  
Please promise me you'll try." She looked towards Madam Giry, who encouraged her forward. Erik smiled and, having a lot to do, disappeared.  
"When you find that once again you long  
To take your heart back and be free.  
If you ever find a moment,  
Spare a thought for me."

* * *

Before Christine knew it, she was onstage, wearing a beautiful sparkling white dress, singing to an audience insteaed of an empty theatre house.

"We never said our love was evergreen  
Or as unchanging as the sea.  
But if you can still remember,  
Stop and think of me." She tried not to think that, despite Erik's orders, the managers had not left Box Five empty and he wasn't there to see her, his student, sing.  
"Think of all the things we've shared and seen.  
Don't think about the way things might have been.  
Think of me  
Think of me waking silent and resigned.  
Imagine me  
Trying too hard to put you from my mind.  
Recall those days, think back to all those times.  
Think of the things we'll never do.  
There will never be a day when I won't think  
Of you!"

Her voice carried, and in the depths of the Opera House, Erik heard her and tilted his head up, his eyes closed and his thoughts on Christine. He smiled lightly and left, going to the place he had furnished to be his home. By his organ, a red rose shone in the candle light. Picking it up gently, Erik softly tied a red ribbon around the stem and went into the dressing room (which had been their practice room). He placed it on the table lightly, jumping into the shadows when someone came in.

"Erik?" He smiled and came back out.

"Madam Giry." Erik said, with a small bow directed towards her. She shook her head.

"That was very rude to Carlotta."

"Ah, but Christine is better." Erik laughed. Madam Giry smiled lightly.

"Opinion---Christine is your student." Erik raised an eyebrow.

"You don't think Christine has a better voice than La Carlotta?" Madam Giry's smile warmed and she sighed lightly.

"Christine went to go light a candle for her father right now." She said. "You should talk to her."

"Thank you, Madam." He replied, going through the mirror and the fastest route possible, he arrived shortly after Christine did. He placed himself in a comfortable position (as comfortable as one could be in a stone wall) and turned his attention to her.  
"Brava...brava...bravissimo..." Christine looked up and smiled.

"Christine...Christine..." Erik sighed---Meg.

"Christine..." He whispered a final time, watching as Meg entered the room. Erik stayed, wondering about the conversation between the two girls.

"Where in the world have you been hiding?  
Really you were perfect.  
I only wish I knew your secret.  
Who is your great tutor?" Meg asked, keeping her eyes on Christine with a serious look. Erik rolled his eyes.

"Meg, when your mother brought me here to live...whenever I'd come to light a candle for my father, or at night when I dreamed...a strange voice came to me." Erik closed his eyes and hit his head with his hand---how he hated it when Christine spoke like this! "You see, Meg, as my father lay dying, he promised me I would be protected by an Angel...an Angel of Music." Meg easily kept up a serious face, but inwardly she was laughing. Erik, an Angel?

"Christine, do you believe..." She trailed off, not knowing how to say it. Meg tried again. "Do you think your father's spirit is coaching you?"

"Who else, Meg, who?" Christine asked, reverance in her eyes. Meg stayed silent.  
"Father once spoke of an Angel.  
I used to dream he'd appear.  
Now as I sing I can sense him  
And I know he's here." She stood up slowly, turning as if she would find Erik in one of the corners of the small room.  
"Here in this room he calls me softly  
Somewhere inside, hiding.  
Somehow I know he's always with me.  
He the unseen genius." Erik looked away---'a genius indeed, huh?' he thought---but he smiled, hearing Christine's voice.

"Christine, you must have been dreaming.  
Stories like this can't come true.  
Christine, you're talking in riddles  
And it's not like you." Meg lead her away, and Erik sighed, leaning his head against the wall behind him. He didn't follow---he knew what Christine would call him and he hated it when she did. 'Angel of Music'. He shook his head. It was better, he supposed, than saying that she got lessons from the 'Phantom'. Shaking his head, he went back to the dressing room, in order to properly congradulate Christine. When he got there, however, he wished he waited a while longer.

"The Angel of Music sings songs in my head." And Raoul hugged Christine, who hugged back, as he whispered something in her ear. She smiled, telling him about her 'Angel of Music'. He seemed to believe her, and without heisitation, invited her to dinner with him. Christine denied.

"No, Raoul. The Angel of Music is very strict." She lied, not knowing what Erik thought of Raoul. Raoul laughed and ignored her.

"You must change."

"No, Raoul---"

"I'll load my carriage, two minutes, Little Lotte." He left and Christine fumed.

"No, Raoul, wait!" She tried, but he had already shut the door. Christine shook her head and went to change, as he ordered. Only, when she came back out, Erik (who had turned about 180 degrees when she went to change and only turned when he heard her walking towards the door) was amused to note that she had put on a sleeping gown.

"Christine..." He called softly. She turned instantly from the door, relief lit on her face.

"Erik!" She cried. Walking up to the mirror, she sat down in front of it and looked up. "Thank you for the rose."

"You're welcome. You did very well, after all." Her eyes lit up and Erik held back an urge to laugh.

"You heard me?" She asked excitedly, a bright smile on her face.

"Of course I did." He told her firmly. "Your voice carries very well, my dear. I couldn't see you, but I could hear you perfectly." Christine's smile widened a little more. "Why aren't you going to dinner to celebrate?"Christine shrugged.

"I'm not sure I should go. Raoul is our patron---"

"But you want to." Erik interrupted. She sighed.

"Can I please come visit you again?" She asked, changing the subject suddenly. He blinked.

"What about the Vicompte?" He asked curiously. Christine smiled.

"I want to see your home again, Erik." Before Erik could tell her absolutely not, they were interrupted by the door opening. Christine stood up quickly and turned to see Raoul. Erik sighed silently.

"Little Lotte---" Raoul started but Christine cut him off.

"I apologize, Raoul, but I cannot go out with you tonight." Christine said politely.

"Why not?" Raoul asked, confused. Christine bit her lip.

"I'm...a little tired. Maybe next time?" She offered, trying to smile. He sighed but did as he was told.

"All right---next time, Little Lotte." He told her, kissing her hand. She smiled that time and he left. As soon as he did, Christine went over to the door and locked it firmly before returning to the mirror.

"Let me in, Erik." She said, hands on her hips. Erik, thinking she was about to sleep and was about to leave, paused and turned to her.

"No." Was his reply. Christine frowned.

"Please?" She tried. Erik smirked at her effort.

"Absolutely not, Christine." Christine pouted, crossing her arms.

"You're not being fair, Erik." She muttered.

"I don't have to be fair---I'm your teacher." He said.

"You aren't right now." She pointed out. "Please?"

"No." He looked away---he couldn't let her in.

"Angel, I hear you  
Speak, I'll listen.  
Stay by my side  
Guide me.  
Angel, my soul was weak  
Forgive me.  
Enter at last,  
Master." Christine sang. Erik sighed, audibly this time---he lost.

"Flattering Child, you shall know me  
See why in shadow I hide.  
Look at your face in the mirror  
I am there inside." Christine smiled, walking forward unhesitatingly and looking as the mirror was pushed back enough to let her through.

"Angel of Music, guide and guardian  
Come to me, your glory!  
Angel of Music, hide no longer  
Come to me, strange Angel!" Erik held out his hand to her and she took it instantly. He disregarded the last part of the song---there was no need to entrance her, she was coming willingly. Sighing inaudibly, he led her forward, closing the mirror. He turned to look at her one last time before walking down the halls.

"Follow me, then." He said. Christine did as she was told, but couldn't stand the silence.

"In sleep he sang to me  
In dreams he came  
That voice which calls to me  
And speaks my name.  
And though I dream again  
For now I find  
The Phantom of the Opera is there  
Inside my mind." Erik rolled his eyes---it seemed he was on a losing streak today.

"Sing once again with me  
Our strange duet  
My power over you  
Grows stronger yet  
And though you turn from me  
To glance behind  
The Phantom of the Opera is there  
Inside your mind." Christine smiled.

"All those who've seen your face  
Draw back in fear  
I am the mask you wear."

"It's me they hear." Erik sang, closing his eyes. He knew the passage by heart.

"Your/my spirit and your/my voice  
In one combined  
The Phantom of the Opera is there  
Inside your/my mind."

"In all your fantasies, you always knew  
That man and mystery---"

"Were both in you." Christine sang.

"And in this labyrinth,where night is blind  
The Phantom of the Opera is there,  
inside your/my mind." She smiled as they reached the gate---she hadn't even noticed the journey there.

* * *

Much later, Meg came in, frowning when she had to unlock Christine's door.

"Christine?" She called out softly. Walking in, Meg left the door open. "Christine?" She tried again. Her frown deepened when nobody answered her. Turning to leave, she spotted the mirror open. Walking towards it, she pushed it open more and walked into the hallway. Eyes widening, Meg walked a few feet, and jumped about six feet when a hand collided with her shoulder. Turning around, she relaxed instantly when she looked into the face of her mother. "Maman?"

"You should be in your room, Meg." Was all her mother said as she grabbed Meg's wrist and pulled her out of the hall.

"It seems Erik finally made a move on Christine." Meg commented. Her mother smiled.

"Perhaps."


End file.
